


Contemplation

by skittydolly



Series: Trials [3]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Biting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Pet Names, Rutting, Size Difference, Size Kink, paz is a big softy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22445431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittydolly/pseuds/skittydolly
Summary: Paz and Din were close.At least Paz would like to think that.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Paz Vizla
Series: Trials [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652860
Comments: 25
Kudos: 479





	Contemplation

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, another little tease, but I promise I'll write a fic where they're reunited with the tribe ♥ For now, here's a little more backstory for my other fics in Paz' point of view. I tried to keep things as canon compliant as I could, but for the record I don't have any interest and/or knowledge of Star Wars other than this series. So because of that, things don't fit perfectly, just some headcanons that I've had for a while that I wanted to put into this story line. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy regardless ♥

Paz had never taken Din Djarin as a cuddler.

Yet he woke this morning with this Mandalorian in particular clinging to his side. His own arm wrapped around the younger's shoulders, his silver helm buried in the black material of Paz' shirt, one of his legs thrown high over Paz' middle and one arm tossed around his neck. He didn't think that Din realized he was awake. Paz had to internally calm his pounding heart when Din had oh so carefully shifted up, pressed their helmets together and then quietly slid off their small cot, most likely off to check on the child.

Paz meanwhile contemplated his companion’s demeanor.

The cold exterior he’d display all those years in the covert seemed to be nothing more than a ruse. For what purpose, Paz did not know. Din had always been on the smaller side, one of the last of their clans’ foundlings; taken in before they hid dormant and sought shelter, migrating strategically before finding humble refuge in the sewers of Nevarro many years later. Paz remembered his timid nature, his sad, dark brown eyes and the sweep of short hair across his forehead when he was just a boy. 

When the time came, he had trained well with the others, Paz among them.

Being just 3 years older, Paz had already begun accompanying elders on jobs far away in the outer reaches of space by the time Din had been sworn in to the creed at 18. Upon returning from missions, Paz’ responsibility was to train those younger the skills he had learned during his shadowing. In the technical aspect, Din learned quite quickly, knotting ropes, sculpting daggers, fine tuning the delicate circuitry beneath their armor, medical applications, the list goes on.

It was impressive for a youngling. Paz was sure the boy had many lessons from his father when he had first been taken in and as he was raised. The only measure of frustration Din would show was during grappling sessions. Tossed around one too many times by those his age, but much larger than him. He always got back up, to the point of exhausting himself, a trait Paz realized never fully left the man’s system after that little argument they had those weeks ago.

Paz could remember a time when one of their clan’s matriarchs pulled him aside, he did not know what words were exchanged. However, the next time Din had sparred with a fellow clanmate, who stood a foot taller than him with heavy fists and thick legs, he seemed to actually be thinking, rather than snarling his frustrations. Paz could still hear the murmurs of onlookers when Din had dug his fingers into the other’s shoulders when he charged forward, practically vaulted over him like a loth cat, crouched low to the ground behind the other’s legs and swept them out from under him. 

The next time, Paz felt a little more than jealous of his clanmate when Din had executed his move with his thighs around another sparring partner’s head, swinging his body one way and the momentum threw the other off balance, knocking him on his back and forcing the air out of his lungs. When got back up on his feet, charging forward fist first, Din had grabbed his arm firmly, lifting himself off the ground to coil one leg around it and swing himself on the other’s back, forcing him down with his arm in a lock, visor down in the dirt.

Din had been extra deadly with the use of tools, the grappling hook that was installed on his vambrace as a gift from his father on his 19th year had been the icing on the cake. Paz had had a taste of that one when he had turned 23. He’d like to think that Din had lingered a moment longer when he had Paz pinned to the floor, gauntlet against his neck, thighs straddling his chest and the fibercord of said grappling hook coiled tight around his legs, the hook buried in one of the cuisses on his thighs.

He was sure Din was smiling behind his helmet when Paz was forced to yield, removing the hook and not long after that he was shadowing his father on his first off world mission. He was gone for months and Paz could think of nothing but him during that time. When he returned, the tribe had been gifted with an abundance of new meats, spices, weaponry and ammunition from the many bounties they secured on their trip.

Paz had never been one to shy away from interaction. With Din on his mind for months, he made sure to sit with him at the gathering. He was embarrassingly distracted by the rasp of Din’s voice as he spoke of his first hunt, of their finds, and their journey. Ever the silent type, he had trailed off after a while and his father, well respected in the tribe, had continued the tales of their travels.

Paz and Din were close.

At least Paz would like to think that. They sparred, plenty of times, tended to each other’s wounds, as had all of their clanmates. However, they were around each other more often than not. They patrolled together, fed the younglings, sparred, buffed their beskar, and talked; they liked to talk. It was when Din had opened up a little did Paz realize how much of a playful little thing Din was. Paz couldn’t help but tease back, finding Din easily flustered and Paz loved to hear him laugh, wished he could see the smile in those dark eyes. 

However, their fun only lasted for so long. Nearly a decade after Din had been inducted into the Creed, their clan had to gradually evacuate from their home. Elders scouted for shelter, finding it on Navarro and those of Din and Paz’ age group were tasked with securing the foundlings’ safety. They did so successfully, though Paz could only figure it was the tensions of the entire clan was what pulled them apart from their brief friendship. The loss of Din’s father had been the final blow.

From then on, Din had been the clan’s only beroya.

Paz had rarely seen him. When he did, they seemed to butt heads. Din’s sole focus was providing for the clan, Paz didn’t even know if he slept, if he ate.. It was when Din returned with beskar stamped with Imperial markings did his frustration boil over. His pride was stung, his heart was hurt and his tongue was much too sharp. When their matriarch had diffused the situation, vibroblades sheathed, Paz immediately retreated from the armory. He was angry at Din, angry at himself and his actions. When he heard of Din’s betrayal of the guild, when foundlings had rushed to him with wet faces and trembling voices of their beroya being in danger, Paz had been the first out of the covert.

Paz had never seen pure beskar worn so beautifully...

“What are you thinking of?”

Paz looked up from his thoughts as Din approached him, bare of the pauldrons on his shoulders and the cuisses on his thighs, his lack of armor accentuating Paz’ earlier thoughts on the man’s frame. The larger man smiled affectionately under his helmet, shifting up and swinging his legs off their makeshift cot, setting his knees apart and extending a hand towards the other. No words and Din, much as he’d probably hate to admit, eagerly followed forward, knees bumping the side of the bed.

Paz’ large hands curled tenderly around Din’s trim waist, nearly encompassing its circumference entirely. Din’s own hands moved to Paz’ wrists, shifting his fingers under hard metal to stroke the sliver of skin just barely visible before sliding his palms up and resting at his biceps, giving a slow knead that had the larger man humming appreciatively. Paz looked up to see Din tilt his head, still waiting for his answer.

“How tiny you are.”

Paz wasn’t particularly well versed in putting things lightly. He immediately felt Din tense under his touch, his hands flying up to smack lightheartedly at Paz’ helmet and push at him, Paz only laughed softly and held on tighter.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

Oh, he definitely hit a soft spot.

“Never,” he purred, tugging Din into his lap and immediately nestling the crests of their helmets together. “I quite like it, mesh’la..” Din seemed to surrender, his body relaxing into Paz’ hands which traveled up his back, bare of beskar, over the dark brown material of his undershirt, pressing firmly into the muscle of his shoulders below. Din sighed contently, shifting up to rest the cheek of his helmet to the top of Paz’, the larger man pressing his own into Din’s chest where he exhaled a rasped breath.

“I was thinking of when we were young.”

A pause…

“You make it sound like we’re old.”

Paz laughed heartily at that, squeezing Din firmly to himself and then shifting back to look at him. “The years have certainly taken their toll, cyar’ika, but you’re far from old.. Even though your shoulder creaks like this blasted ship, you’ve just turned 30, darling.” Another smack to the back of his helm, Din huffed at him and Paz dearly wished to see the pout he knows is there under his visor.

“Like your back sounds any better, you roll over in your sleep and it cracks all the way down your spine. Maybe lose the jetpack for a while, old man.”

And there was that playful boy Paz knew from before. He grinned beneath his mask, locking his arms around Din and rolling them over onto their sides. Din followed easily, shifting his arms around Paz’ neck and giving a huff as he positioned his legs from hanging off the edge of the bed. Paz rested the side of his helm in his hand, his other stroking gently along the gentle curve of Din’s cheek plating.

“I’m not the father a 50 year old child.”

Din seemed to pause at that and Paz smiled affectionately, leaning forward and resting his helm to Din’s. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to be,” he whispered and got a hand to the visor pushing him back. “You’re quite the charmer, Vizla,” Din hummed, rolling a little closer as if to physically accept the insinuation of Paz’ words. It wasn’t something up for discussion in Mandalorian culture. Should they be bonded by tradition, Paz would act as the foundlings father as well, no questions asked.

They had to find the tribe for such things, had to have someone like their matriarch seal their bond as akin to marriage. At the moment, as two Mandalorians who swore to and by the creed, they must abide by tradition should they be bonded in the future. And the future was uncertain. There has yet to be any word from the survivors of the tribe, of their matriarch. After the fiasco on Navarro, Paz had secured Din’s trajectory off planet with a salute, returning to the battlefield for their brothers and sisters who had fallen.

Clans within the tribe had separated off world not long after that. Paz and few others stayed to guard their armorer, honor the space they had been forced to call home, compile every bit of material goods to ration to remaining families and send them securely on their way. Paz was the last to leave, but only at the armorer’s request. He stayed with her, she spoke to him so gently, words of advice, acknowledgement of pride and past relations and he knew exactly what she was asking him to do in the monotone of her voice.

Find Din Djarin. Protect the foundling. This is the way.

In the end, she still helped him. He had found himself on a real backwater skug hole called Sorgan when he received an encrypted message. Coordinates followed the word beroya and he was off. He hadn’t expected Din’s reaction when Paz had found him. He hadn’t expected to get an armful of warm, trembling Mandalorian, he thought he’d be so angry with him. But even with all that had happened, Din didn’t seem to have forgotten their past friendship. That Paz was not his enemy no matter the distance that had grown between them.

The ad'ika had introduced himself, wiggling between the two men’s boots, clutching Paz’ calf and looking up at him with those big eyes that absolutely melted Paz’ heart. The rest is history. They quickly grew accustomed to each other’s presence like they were twenty again. They talked like they used to. Din had told him everything from the decade they had grown apart to the final battle on Navarro. Paz couldn’t believe he was jealous of a droid…

“Cyare...“

Once again Paz was pulled from his thoughts, giving an embarrassed grunt to clear his throat. He was sure Din was raising a brow at him. Paz instead made to change the subject, cupping a hand to Din’s nape and squeezing tenderly, watching how Din relaxed and nuzzled his visor into the sheets below them. “What did you think of me when we first met?” Paz asked with a tilt of his head, brushing his fingers against Din’s pulse point, pulling the material of his high neck away to reach it. He could feel the man's laugh through his fingers.

“Ori'buyce, kih'kovid...” All helmet, no head.

Another pause.

“That’s rude.”

Din’s laugh softened the blow to Paz’ ego. Paz just shoved the man’s head into the thin mattress and then flicked his audial. “You just didn’t like being bossed around, brat, especially by someone older than you.” Din grabbed Paz’ wrist and put his hand back on his shoulder, shifting closer and pressing his body flush to the larger man’s. “You like throwing your weight around, and as attractive as that is now, your sense of authority was completely uncalled for...”

“...So you admit you like me tossing you around?”

Din shifted back an inch. “I didn’t say that.”

“You most certainly did, Djarin.”

Another inch. “I did not.”

“You think I’m attractive.” Paz knew the smirk in his voice was ruffling Din’s feathers.

“Ori'jagyc-”

“I am no bully, you are just incredibly fun to tease, you always have been, cyar’ika.”

The little growl behind Din’s helmet made Paz smirk, finding Din’s wrists and watching him, very obviously, not putting up a fight as he pulled away from Paz’ grip. So the larger man gave him what he wanted. His hold moved to Din’s biceps, wrapping the entirety of his hands around Din’s arms, swiftly finding his feet on the ground again, lifting Din bodily up and then slamming him hard back into the bed. Paz mounted over him with a low rumble of a growl, pressing their helmets together, unsatisfied until he heard the broken little moan through Din’s modulator when his thick thigh nestled between the younger’s legs. 

“Is he asleep?” A shaky nod of his silver helmet.

“Do you want this, sweetheart?” Another nod, more insistent and Paz couldn’t say no. He sighed contently when Din’s hands traveled up his arms until they reached his shoulders, pulling Paz more closely over him until their hips slotted flush together. The larger man chuckled quietly, moving one his his hands under Din’s thigh to heft it gently over his hip. Free of their armor, their movements were more fluid, almost lazy as Din rocked up, cuddling Paz to his shoulder and whimpering quietly for more friction.

“These sounds you make,” Paz groaned, releasing Din’s arms and shifting one hand down his side, the other keeping himself propped up beside Din’s head. “I missed your voice terribly when you were away, but I had no idea you could sound like this..” A particularly firm grind had Din arching up with a quiet keen, his fingers gripping at Paz’ sleeves and legs falling open a little more. “I’d love to hear more, little one,” he purred, nuzzling their forehelms together, shuddering when Din pulled him even closer, both legs wrapped around Paz’ waist.

“Everything you say when you’re lost to your pleasure,” he hummed, the hand at Din’s waist shifting under his shirt to stroke at his warm skin, feeling him tense under his hand before relaxing again. He was so touch starved Paz was amazed the younger man didn’t completely recoil. “When you tell me everything you want me to do to you.. You’ve got a filthy little mouth on you, darling..”

“Paz...” Din whined through clenched teeth, tossing his head back against the sheets. Paz smirked, his free hand shifting to clasp firmly around the man’s ass, making his hips fuck up weakly and Paz could already feel the growing hardness, the wetness in Din’s pants. “You get all wet for me when we’ve barely even started, cyar’ika. Are you that sensitive?” Paz paused, snaking his large hand under the waist of Din’s pants, cupping the supple muscle and squeezing firmly until Din choked out a gasp.

“Or do you just like that it’s my hands on you?”

“O-Only you,” Din whimpered weakly, bucking desperately for friction against Paz’ thigh. “I only want you to touch me.” Paz groaned roughly at that, his hips thrusting forward against Din’s, shoving them up with the hand clasping his ass. “K-Keep talking, please keep talking, mesh’la-” the larger man groaned out, shifting back much to Din’s disappointment, but only to shove the younger man’s pants down over his cock, his own as well.

He draped himself over Din once more, pre slicking down their shafts as they rubbed slowly, deep, rolling thrusts making the cot shift under them. Din’s arms came around Paz’ shoulders, Paz’ own shifting to keep himself upright over his cyare. With unbearable tenderness Din’s hands cupped to Paz’ helm, tracing the sharp lines along his jaw and up to his visor, soft pants breathed through the modulator of his own helmet, voice bouncing softly with Paz’ thrusts.

“I missed you..” he said quietly. That wasn’t what Paz was expecting, but his heart squeezed nonetheless, cheeks blazing under his helmet as he listened intently. “When we were younger.. I-I remember.. The first time we sparred, the first time we talked and how your hands felt on me whenever you were close enough.” Paz shuddered, nestling his visor into Din’s chest, breathing him in as much as he could.

“When that closeness was gone, it hurt so bad. When I was alone for months at a time and your hands were all I could think about. Your voice in my ear, your scent, your warmth and I was frustrated when things changed,” Din breathed over Paz’ shoulder, spreading his legs and arching his hips languidly, cock nestling into Paz’ stomach, throbbing and leaking pre. “When I couldn’t touch you like before.. When you wouldn’t touch me and we were both so angry and I had to stop myself from finding you that day.. The imp’s beskar.. When you grabbed me, we had knives at each other’s throats, but I wanted your hands back on me, needed to feel that you were real and that you saw me-”

Paz’ hands moved to hold firmly at Din’s waist. “I saw you-” he snarled, sharp teeth clenching hard, “I’d watch you, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from you whenever you’d come back..” He panted, looking up to rest their helmets together again. “I didn’t think I’d ever have this with you. How many times I dreamt of it, dreamt of you in my arms again, cyar’ika. I was yours before you even knew it..” Paz hummed low, one hand moving up to take one of Din’s, pushing it to the bed beside his helm.

“I can’t take back what I said that day.. But I wish I had grabbed you before you left again,” Paz’ voice lowered to a husky growl, his palm pressed flat against Din’s, the man below him flustered enough that his entire body displayed it. Paz’ hand engulfed Din’s, the tips of Din’s fingers just barely reaching the joint of Paz’ first knuckle. “I should have taken you to my quarters and let you know that I was here for you- That I needed you and I missed you, I missed you so fucking much, Din’ika...”

Din whimpered at that soft little name, cheeks alight beneath his visor and Paz just kept going, overwhelming him like he’s already done more than a few times since they’ve reunited. “You shouldn’t have had to go through what you did alone, but you’re so fucking strong.. Mandokar.. Pure and beautiful in your beskar.. To stand beside you, to know your name, to say your name is the greatest honor and I-I..” Paz trailed off at the feeling of Din’s hands at his helmet, his thumbs tracing the bright blue concaves of his cheek plating, up to the edge of his visor. 

They stayed like that for a moment or two, contemplating each other’s next move, cocks still pulsing against their stomachs and breaths coming in short. The little tilt of Din’s chin said it all.. Paz moved his hands up, cupping tenderly to the sides of Din’s helmet, his entire body stilling, only reciprocating when Din’s hands shifted his helmet up and Paz did the same. The plating that once rested over their cheeks created a blind spot over their eyes.

Paz had leaned in a little too eagerly, his helm clinking to Din’s but the younger man held firmly, his smile the first thing Paz felt as their lips pressed. Chaste and slow, soft lips sliding delicately against each other, noses brushing as they tilted further in. Din gasped softly at the gentle scrape of sharp teeth against his bottom lip and Paz took the chance to move in further. The noise Din made shot straight to his cock as their tongues brushed, hot breath against each other’s faces.

Din had to follow Paz’ movements when he swooped down, his lips making contact with the cords of his neck and suckling tenderly, nosing away at the high neck of the younger’s shirt before sinking his jaws into the warm skin of Din’s nape. The smaller man near convulsed under him with a cry, not a touch and yet his cock pulsed heavily between them, spilling across his stomach. Paz growling terribly low against his neck when one of Din’s hands reached between them and curled around the larger man’s thick shaft, pumping firmly and wriggling his hips blindly, his breath against Paz’ jaw, little pleads and moans, soft names and titles whimpered desperately to him.

“Gedet’ye- Paz.. R-Riduur-”

Paz gasped brokenly against Din’s warm skin, shoving both of their helmets back down and butting their forehelms together firmly. “Riduur-” he snarled, his arms trembling beside Din’s head to keep himself up, his hips fucking into Din’s tight fist. “E-Elek, gedet’ye- Gedet’ye, cyare-” Din near sobbed, his other hand cupping the back of Paz’ helmet and keeping him close when Paz groaned roughly.

His cock throbbed in Din’s soft palm, his own cum spilling onto the smaller man’s stomach. Paz panting heavily to try and catch his breath after the emotion that swirled deep in his heart. He watched in absolute adoration as Din dropped his head back against the sheets, his chest rising and falling with his heavy pants, legs shifting around Paz’ hips. The larger man immediately made to massage his thighs, sighing quietly and leaning over his cyare to nuzzle him tenderly, Din’s arms coming around his shoulders.

“Soon...” Paz whispered, one hand coming to stroke the side of Din’s helm. “I promise, cyar’ika..” He smiled as Din leaned into his hand, pulling Paz firmly until they rolled onto their sides. Din made to bury himself into Paz’ chest and it was only a few moments after did Paz realize he was asleep again. He shifted both of them to the head of the cot carefully, holding Din close to his side after cleaning him up a bit with a stray cloth. He took the quiet moment to trace the gentle curves of the younger’s silver helmet.

He’d never thought he could have this, never thought he would. Din was the only thing Paz desired in all the years they had known each other. For Din to be his, for Paz to be Din’s meant the galaxy, meant the entire universe to him. Paz curled Din close to his chest, slowly joining him in a few more well deserved hours of restful sleep. They’d have to talk more when they woke.

Riduur... He called him his husband.

Soon that would be true, sealed by tradition. Soon, Paz knew it.

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a Translations:  
> Beroya - bounty hunter  
> Mesh’la - beautiful  
> Cyare - beloved  
> Cyar'ika - sweetheart, darling  
> Ad'ika - little one, son, daughter, of any age  
> "Ori'buyce, kih'kovid" - All helmet, no head. Common term of derision for someone with an overdeveloped sense of authority  
> Ori'jagyc -bullying; also bully, swaggering big-mouth - someone who picks on someone smaller  
> Din'ika - little Din  
> Mandokar - the *right stuff*, the epitome of Mando virtue - a blend of aggression, tenacity, loyalty and a lust for life  
> Gedet’ye - Please  
> Elek - Yes  
> Riduur -partner, spouse, husband, wife (husband in this case)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and questions are always appreciated ♥


End file.
